


Spiralling

by White_Eyebrow



Series: The Houses Competition: Year 5 [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Attempted Seduction, F/M, Gaelic Language, Mirror of Erised, Poetry, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2021-01-29 15:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Eyebrow/pseuds/White_Eyebrow
Summary: Alastor Moody, from his ordeal, he did awaken, and now he ponders the path never taken
Relationships: Minerva McGonagall/Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody
Series: The Houses Competition: Year 5 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543387
Kudos: 1





	Spiralling

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for The Houses Competition, Year 5, Round Four.
> 
> House: Gryffindor (The only house that matters)  
Class Subject: Potions  
Category: Drabble  
Prompt: [Song Prompt] Defying Gravity from Wicked

** **

Alastor Moody stepped nimbly as he patrolled the empty halls of the seventh floor at the west end of Hogwarts castle. The candelabrum in his hand dimly illuminated the walls, where hung portraits of slumbering effigies.

He turned a corner and paused when he came upon a cat, who regarded him calmly. He knelt in an attempt to pet the feline, but was denied as the cat magically transformed into her true form. The witch, so transformed, looked down toward the handsome young Auror aloofly with her cat eyes.

He looked up to regard the statuesque Animagus, clad in dark tartan robes. "All is calm in the House of Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall." He rose.

"Thank you, Mister Moody," she replied. "I am sure we will all sleep easy this year knowing we have an Auror on our staff fulfilling the position of… _Professor_ of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"_Professor," _he parroted with a smirk. "Do I detect a hint of disdain in your tone, madam?"

She merely raised an eyebrow. "You exaggerate, sir; I may have transmitted shock, perhaps—dare I say disbelief—but not disdain." She folded her arms and stood taller, though she was no match for his height. "As a... _professor_, I suggest you be more precise with your verbiage."

He took a step closer, illuminating her gentle face—a pleasing antithesis to her harsh wit. "Perchance, would you care to parley any other parlances you would presume upon my person, professor?"

She blinked, staring into two dreamy eyes of blue. "If your reputation holds true, insufferable, womanizing barbarian will do."

His smirk levelled, and he said with confidence, "You have likewise been labouring under an exaggeration, for I am perfectly sufferable in small doses. If you would only give me a chance, allow me to demonstrate, by asking you to dance."

Her eyes, now fully human in the relatively bright candlelight, narrowed. "I see we must add 'overforward' to your list of descriptors."

"Is it not tradition that a lady cannot refuse a gentleman's request for a dance?"

"Your dubious assumption of the moniker 'gentleman' notwithstanding, that oppressive rule is only observed within the context of a ball." She brushed past him with measured footfalls. "I, for one, do not see such a venue about... do _you?"_

Verily, such a venue he did not see; he smiled at her defiance. "How silly of me."

Her back to him, she left without further pretence, and Moody continued his patrol.

Moody descended to the sixth floor. This wing of the castle showcased a large balcony with an open area bathed in bright moonlight. He leaned against the ledge, and his eyes were drawn to the glistening surface of the lake below where he regarded two Ravenclaw eagles circling each other in flight.

The raptors seemed to be engaged in a type of courtship. The circle between them grew tighter, until they locked talons, and so entwin'd, began to spiral downward toward the waters only to separate at the last possible moment, skimming the surface as their wings flapped furiously to return them skyward.

_FWOOOSH!_

He hopped back with a start when a large shadowed figure flew fast overhead. The air disturbed in its wake was turbulent enough to sway his long brunet locks.

_Intruder!_ He summoned his broom and gave chase.

On mounted broomstick, the intruder owned the night sky. Moody had a hard time keeping pace, mesmerized by the beguiling acrobatics of his quarry as he was led around the many towers about the castle. He chased the figure into the heavens; teary-eyed from the cut of the wind, he cast a Shield Charm to protect him from the cold as he ascended into the stratosphere.

He paused when he broke through the clouds; his prey, clad in tartan robes, smiled at him knowingly. Here above it all, the moon was especially brilliant, its light unfettered in the thin air.

McGonagall's legs crossed; she sat sidesaddle as she hovered in place, reclined with one hand propped against the shaft of her broom.

Moody brandished his wand, and the cloud bank between them magically coalesced and became substantial enough to walk upon. He tentatively set his foot upon the billowy firmament, followed by the other. The ice crystals crunched under the leathered soles of his dragonskin boots. He approached her, and she likewise dismounted.

He beheld her.

Luna cast its countenance upon her porcelain-coloured face—her hair shimmering like onyx—her rosy lips made black by the silver moonlight.

Their warm breaths condensed past the threshold of their respective Shield Charms and crystallized, sparkling like microscopic diamonds to settle amongst the surrounding peaks so disturbed by their movements.

He bowed. "Is this venue more to your liking for a dance, madam?"

In answer, she curtsied and took his proffered hand. She gasped when he pulled her close, but relaxed in his gentle embrace. A wry smile curled her lips when he leaned in, and she invoked, "_Finite Incantatem."_

**. . .**

_The firmament beneath them she did dispel  
_ _And the witch and wizard summarily fell_

_Caught in gravity's unyielding embrace  
_ _In instinctual fear his heart did race_

_Panicked, he pulled her to him in haste  
_ _And she wrapped her legs around his waist_

_He regained his composure and regarded her in passing:  
_ _Her eyes were beaming… She was laughing!_

_The excitement was infectious, and their arms opened wide  
_ _Bodies pressed together, their hearts synchronized_

_It left his skin on pins-and-needles—_  
_Plummeting through the sky—  
_ _Spiralling like the eagles_

_At peace, he let go, and took everything in  
_ _The wind in his ears—a beautiful din_

_Flying in the truest sense of the word_  
_Heedless to limits  
_ _Free as a bird_

_Unaided by magic:_  
_Was blind, now can see.  
_ _'Tween life and death:_

Ecstasy

**. . .**

The spinning Earth below came ever closer, and they parted.

Moody summoned his broom, mounting it in midair. He pulled up just in time; his knees grazed the grass of the Quidditch field as he levelled off, and he skidded across the sod until he came to a halt.

He vaulted to his feet. All of his senses were heightened: dazzling colours all around, the taste of the air, the katydids' sound….

He spied McGonagall prostrated on the other end of the field, and he rushed to her side.

He shook her. "Professor McGonagall?" She did not move. He knelt and gently turned her onto her back, cradling her in his arms. "Minerva!"

He gave a start when her eyes snapped open, and was thus unprepared when she pulled him off balance, rolling him onto his back. She giggled as she straddled him.

With her hands propped on either side of his head, her hair dangled, tickling the skin across his forehead. Her vertical pupils widened, convexed in the dim light.

She leered. "Ye'r in me power..."

With a sigh, he relented. "There'r easier ways tae git me alone, lassie."

"We hae t' keep up appearances, we dae," she persisted, straightening with her arms folded akimbo. "Th' Rotfang Conspiracy has spies every place, tryin' t' sniff us oot."

He propped himself up on both elbows and shrugged. "Ah suppose…." He attempted to sit up.

But, McGonnagall pushed him back onto the ground, maintaining her dominance. "Hae ye considered Dumbledore's proposal?"

"Aye, th' Order o' th' Phoenix..."

"What say ye?"

He grinned, resting his head atop his interlaced fingers. "I say ye play too rough."

With pouting lips she leaned closer, whispering, "Be thare _anythin'_ ah kin dae t' persuade ye?"

He took in her warm breath for his own. "That remains tae be seen, bonnie."

Her teeth gently tugged her bottom lip. She whipped her long hair aside with a sideways nod, lowering to her elbows, and eliminating any free space between their bodies. Then, with mischievous eyes and parted lips she—

—oOo—

_KRESHHH!_

Splotches of red and broken glass littered the ground at Moody's feet in the centre of the otherwise empty, dark room. The old Auror unclenched his fist and regarded his reflection in the broken mirror; it was impossible to tell if the lines drawn over his face were artefacts of the many cracks in the glass, or his deep-set wrinkles.

He had wisely kept his human eye shut, allowing the vision to come across clearer: a magic eye for a magic mirror.

"Feeling better?"

Moody flinched, and his special eye trained on the gentle wizard who had arrived unnoticed by the threshold. "Infernal contraption, that." He then turned his head to regard him properly. "How did you know that I would be here, Albus?"

Dumbledore grinned, his hands clasped together at the fore. "I would be a poor Head of House if I did not come to know my students—even _if_ they are no longer under my care—Professor Moody."

"_Professor?"_ Moody snorted. "I didn't get around to doing much 'professoring', did I?"

"On the contrary, the battle that you, no doubt, fought _within_—to push through the darkness—in defiance of the gravity of your situation—should, henceforth, be required study for any serious practitioner of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Looking down at his bleeding hand, he frowned, whispering, "You would still have me?"

"I would, for the Order needs you." Dumbledore had excellent hearing. "The Triwizard closing ceremony has already started. Won't you join us?"

"I doubt anyone would want my mug darkening the festivities."

"Not true. Minerva has, at least, casually inquired about you..."

"_Casually?"_

"You know how adept she is with pretence," Dumbledore said, without any pretence of his own. "But, I'm sure everyone will understand if you decline."

Not being one to linger, Dumbledore turned to leave, when he was stilled:

"Albus… I'll be along shortly."

The older wizard smiled. "Excellent." And he left.

Alone once more, Moody ignored the mirror as he waved his wand over his lacerated knuckles, and his hand was healed. He proceeded to the exit; his heavy wooden leg made for loud footfalls.

_Clomp… Clomp… Clomp… Clomp…_

At his egress the room was quiet. The disparate pieces of glass at the base of the mirror started to twitch; one-by-one, they magically flitted about, returning to their home in the mirror, and thus, Erised was made whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> For the ornithologists out there, the magic that enables Wizarding owls to operate by day, balances nature out by making these Ravenclaw eagles active at night. Either that, or Moody's brain is still discombobulated from his ordeal.


End file.
